


Ich will brennen

by Billywick



Category: Defense of the Ancients | Dota, Dota 2
Genre: M/M, definitely bj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2439365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billywick/pseuds/Billywick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silencer encounters the feared Invoker. Out of position and help, how will Nortrom possibly get himself out of this alive?</p>
<p>(set in my own canon of the Dota world)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ich will brennen

The line that divided Dire from Radiant was frail and thin, and some days, Nortrom wondered why it existed at all. Of course, the Dire had demons and worse at its command, defending for their own selfish purpose that had nothing to do with a greater good. Perhaps that's why so many powerful creatures stayed rooted in this war; prestige, and pride. No one wanted to be branded a coward once they joined the effort to defend the Ancients which had long since battled for this world.

It was almost a static occurrence now, this war. The battlefield was a sprawling landscape, one half dead, the other bright and green with foliage. A river separated the two sides, and defensive, enchanted towers watched this border day and night. The Ancients' own soldiers were mindless creatures, cannon fodder that met almost daily to slay one another and gain inches of land in their own favour. That battle swayed back and forth with little change.

The real interest and power were the clashes of those that championed the causes of the Ancients. The heroes, in the eyes of those that chose not to fight.

Both sides had a large number of such fighters, mages, warriors, creatures of mythical and monstrous origins. Even elementals and gods were involved. Alright, anyone who had met the short, moustached Zeus on their side would be a little hard-pressed to feel much intimidation, but the god of thunder's short stature did nothing to impede his impact and power.

Still. The purpose of the war grew murkier by the day, the skirmishes more tiresome. Nortrom had joined the war effort a long time ago, and as much as he had grown used to it, he also grew weary. He questioned whether or not it was at all necessary to be involved in a dispute between the Ancients. Would it not suffice to let them hash out their own problems? Yet, that wasn't a solution. The Dire Ancient was a force of self-empowerment, something that drew strength out of life and turned it to power rather than nourish everything that sprouted and grew. Which was why demons were rather attracted to its fiery magnitude.

But then again, there were Dire heroes that had nothing to gain from its victory. The elementals were embroiled in a feud older than time itself, and did their own thing mostly. To them, this battlefield was a chessboard.

Certain immortal mages however had absolutely nothing riding on this war.

Now, Nortrom did not spend a great portion of his time in the area of the battlefield where the title Invoker struck fear into the Radiant heroes. Nor had he seen much of the legendary spellpower of the immortal elf. He'd witnessed his person, but only in fleeting moments. He knew he himself had an impact on all mages that chose to fight here. It was his speciality to deny every enemy on the field the power to cast, if only for a short moment. It had often served substantial for their victory that day, and he earned his title and bore it with pride. Silencer was frequently asked to the field if Invoker would step upon it too.

But yet, they had not met, face to face. Nortrom was doubtful he'd survive such a confrontation. He was not the strongest solo fighter, though he was lethal combined with another, especially his best friend Magina. The Anti-Mage often demanded Nortrom join him on the field, and Nortrom hardly ever objected.

Just like today, he was watching Magina cut down enemy soldiers which everyone referred to as 'creeps' for their hollow, glowing eyes and lingering presence when not in battle. Magina needed to warm up for confrontations, and killing enemy creeps gave him a boost of energy. Not that Magina would admit it, but creep killing gave him magical strength, boosting him into what would later on be a terrifying opponent for the Dire.

The Invoker was of course in what heroes called the mid lane. Three roads connected the battlefield, each crossing the river in three separate locations. These points were guarded by towers and hotly contested daily. The Invoker was always on the Dire mid lane and he could hold it alone against almost anything the Radiant threw at him. 

"Nortrom, I'm okay for now. We need vision though. Go ward, but be careful."

Magina had taken a break from decapitating creeps, biting into a snack he'd brought along. He'd already worked up a light sweat and bore a grin. His lane was going well, and soon enough he would be that looming threat he always strove to be. Perhaps he was a little more enthusiastic than normal, because today it had been communicated through the Radiant forces that one of their enemies was the Faceless Void, a personal rival for Magina in terms of becoming a threat later during the day.

And also, Nortrom suspected, a creature the Anti-Mage was heavily attracted to for reasons the Silencer didn't want to think about.

"Fine. You be careful yourself. Timbersaw is looking twitchy."

"I'll beat the vile sorcery right out of him."

"...He uses a machine, Magina."

"Those wards aren't going to place themselves you know."

"I'm going."

Nortrom shook his head and walked off into the forest. Magina was overly confident as usual, and that was fine. He'd do anything to help his friend become the 'carry' of the day. Carry is what the heroes among themselves called the one who struck the enemy forces the hardest. It was a little internal competition that Magina had won frequently. But also lost often enough.

The forest was dark, even in the middle of the day. Both Ancients exuded a sort of permanent fog that made the visibility abysmal, even during bright, sunny days. Which was why Nortrom was following the path to the river. He had wards in his bag and he needed to place them in order to spot out enemy movements. The wards were enchanted observers, each bound to the Ancient and its heroes. 

So their placement was crucial. Still, Nortrom couldn't help but relax as he strolled through the trees, birds and creatures making little sound. He could almost forget he was in a war-zone right now. The Silencer mounted the steps before the river, and instantly stilled.

Something was icy cold and incredibly close to him. It chilled his skin, raised goosebumps on his arms and had him peer around, alert and a little apprehensive. Had the Ancient Apparition joined the field today? Was he casting a spell to freeze the area? Nortrom couldn't recall, and he didn't have time to either, because out of the sheer thin air, someone clad in flowing white robes and bathed in the light of floating orbs appeared before him.

His eyes were cold as his presence, and his beauty austere. Nortrom knew he'd been caught out, and he might pay for his life in a moment for his foolish carelessness. If only he'd placed the wards earlier, he might not be faced with the Invoker, alone, in the middle of the forest.

"Going warding, are we?" 

The Invoker's voice was deep, much deeper than expected, and it too chilled Nortrom to the core. Yet also ignited something other than fear in the pit of his stomach. He tensed, fingers clenching on his shield and glaive. Nothing yet to help him escape.

"Aren't you going to...kill me?" Nortrom offered, sounding a lot more as if he was mocking the Invoker than genuinely afraid. He was both.

"...You're the Silencer, aren't you? You've caused me trouble in the past, but I did not expect you to be an elf."

Nortrom stiffened even more. How had the man known? He hid his appearance very well behind his helmet...But this guy was immortal. Of course he knew things like that.

"I didn't expect you to be so radiant."

The Invoker blinked, white eyes almost expressing his surprise. Nortrom had wagered right. The man was vain, incredibly so. Flattery should always weaken the self-absorbed.

That Nortrom meant his compliment, he denied to himself.

"Yes, I am astonishing to behold, I know. But you...Take off your helmet."

"That sounds like a deathwish."

"Fool. Do as I say. You may live if you do."

Nortrom had to take his chances. His disappearance would not be noticed yet, as it always took time to ward and Magina shouldn't come to help him in any case. It was more important he got stronger.

So, Nortrom took off his helmet, ruffling his own hair to give it some life. The Invoker didn't seem displeased at all.

"You're not terrible."

"Thank you. Too kind of you."

"Your sarcasm might be your death."

"Wouldn't that be your choice?"

"Hm, true. I have caught you out. You're mine to do with as I please. You please me. In fact, if you please me enough, I'll let you go."

Nortrom wanted to raise his eyebrows to the sky. What kind of proposal was that? Was the Invoker...yes, he was serious. He really had only joined this war to entertain himself.

What a terrible, beautiful elf. 

"Doesn't look like I have a choice."

Nortrom wasn't going to make this humiliating for himself, no matter how much the Invoker enjoyed being in control of him. The Silencer moved forward, ignoring his inner trepidation, he reached for those pristine robes. The Invoker laid a hand on his head, a delicate touch that pushed Nortrom to his knees.

"No, you don't. If you bite, I will kill you, instantly."

Nortrom wanted to grind his teeth, then bite certain parts off of the Invoker and tell him where to shove his condescending nature, but at the same time, he saw his own fingers fumbling to get under those robes, like a bizarre, partial tent. His helmet, glaive and shield lay discarded a few feet from him.

"This better be good, Nortrom." The Invoker whispered from above, one hand twisted in Nortrom's hair. The grip could instantly turn incredibly painful, but for now it remained fairly gentle. 

Nortrom would decide if he wanted to freak out about the Invoker knowing his name later. Right now, he was presented with a sizeable, elven erection. Nortrom let his fingers dance over it at first, testing what made the Invoker grow more or less aroused. After a couple of minutes, a warning tug sent a sharp pain through his head. 

"So impatient," he muttered, only to receive a hiss to hurry up. He leaned closer, deciding to close his eyes and concentrate on his senses. Oddly enough, he didn't feel endangered by the situation at all. Maybe it was because he had the Invoker's dick in his mouth, but he doubted the elf would kill him right now.

It didn't even taste terrible. Obviously, even Dire heroes bathed regularly and the Invoker did look as if he took good care of his body. Nortrom rolled his tongue over sensitive skin and earned himself the quietest of moans from above. 

And that stirred him.

To hell with the war right now. It had been years since Nortrom had time to think or do anything of an amorous nature. And as mentioned before, this didn't even feel terrible. He could feel enthusiasm rise in him, but he'd never admit to that. Even on his deathbed if need be.

Nortrom committed himself, stroked his tongue and used his hands to keep the rest of the Invoker very much attended to. And it was working. The hand in his hair was almost rhythmically clenching, no longer tugging, but holding on for support. Nortrom didn't know if he was that good, but he did his best in sucking and licking what filled his mouth.

"...I see why you're so coveted," the Invoker mocked him from above, but that deep voice was fluctuating in tone, the breaths a little shorter. Nortrom growled, which sent vibrations through the Invoker's arousal and it earned Nortrom a victory in terms of noise; the arrogant elf actually moaned out loud. 

Nortrom didn't drop his momentum. He poured even more effort into his actions, pressing his mouth even closer, swallowing the Invoker deep enough to bed his nose against the soft skin of his nether regions. The Invoker gave an undignified yelp, both hands on Nortrom's head now, pressing him close and moving his back and forth, rocking himself deep into the Silencer's mouth. The semblance of cold control had clearly vanished in the face of heated satisfaction.

Nortrom could have done this a lot longer than it actually happened, as he felt the sharp inhale go through the Invoker and something hot spilling on the back of his tongue.

He'd really earned his survival, if anything. Nortrom released the elf's dick from his mouth after obediently sucking up any liquid. He even closed the Invoker's robes and rose to his feet, still only inches from the enemy mage. 

Whilst he was still breathless from his orgasm, Nortrom grabbed the Invoker's beautiful face by the chin and brought their lips together for a hard kiss. He let the mage taste himself on Nortrom's tongue before they parted and the Silencer stepped away to reach for his belongings and helmet.

"You better go. I have incoming assistance."

The Invoker blinked for a moment, then he was composed. One more tug at his collar and he looked as if nothing had happened. 

"Very well. You earned your life, Silencer. Next time we meet-"

"I'll use my mouth in a way you might not enjoy, Kael. Run."

Whatever surprised response that revelation might have triggered was interrupted as the Invoker turned invisible before Nortrom's eyes and was gone. Only an instant later, a shimmering explosion of light announced the arrival of Magina, who frowned and looked around.

"Nortrom? What the hell happened? You've been gone forever and we don't have vision."

"...Don't worry about it Magina. Just lost in thought. By the way, you're forgetting your old english."

"...Get thee hence and ward!"

Magina was near a pout as he blinked away. Nortrom couldn't help the smirk as he continued onwards to the river to finally do as he'd intended.

Whatever divide was between Radiant and Dire, he couldn't think of a place he'd made more interesting encounters than this field. And it would certainly not be the last meeting with Kael the Invoker. Not if he could help it.


End file.
